


wake up with a nightmare (and dream on)

by Atlanova



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Banquets, Christmas, F/M, Feasts, Hope, Immortal Army, Kidnapping, Magic Loss, Magic Reveal, Mergana friendship, Post-Episode: s02e12 The Fires of Idirsholas, Sarcasm, Trauma, Winter, brief sword fighting, drunk gaius (briefly), drunk gwaine (briefly), gaius is a terrible liar, i don’t know what these tags are, mainly told through chronological flashbacks, medieval festivity, mergana - Freeform, mergana allies, mergana being honest, mergana bickering, merlin redemption, morgana redemption, nobody really likes kilgarrah, really it’s all we ask for, set at the beginning of series 3, slight tension, which is a pretty good christmas gift if you ask me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28036269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atlanova/pseuds/Atlanova
Summary: Morgana can feel a bright smile ready to emerge, almost aching her jaw. It only grows in endearment when Merlin proclaims — with an equally fond smile of his own — that he would gladly carry her back to her chambers, should the months of her steady recovery suddenly backfire.As she moves off her bed, accepting the hand Merlin offers her as he bows dramatically, Morgana recalls that she entirely trusts in his integrity.__________Two years after the events of 2x12, Morgana and Merlin find their footing.
Relationships: Gaius & Merlin (Merlin), Gaius & Morgana (Merlin), Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen & Morgana (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Morgana (Merlin), Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	1. Recollection of the Uprising

_Two years ago, during the immortal army uprising:_

_"Here."_

_Morgana glances up to Merlin before returning her attention back to ripping fabric to make a rope. "I'm fine."_

_"If we get out of here, you may not get another chance to drink," he persists._

"If _we get out of here," she snaps. In her peripheral vision she sees Merlin's expression tense. And instead of hearing the everlasting swords clank and Arthur yelling outside, she hears the faint thud of Merlin dropping the waterskin with indolence. She watches for a moment as he stands and trudges over to the doors — the barrier between them and a waning Arthur._

_A moment later, Merlin returns and sits on his haunches, taking the abandoned waterskin into his hand once more. Morgana watches Merlin's eyelids waver as he struggles to meets her gaze._

_"Please, have some before I finish it," he pleads._

_Morgana relents and nods thankfully, taking the receptacle from him. She thinks she hears Merlin sniff as he goes back to securing the King's stretcher, but shakes her head of it, thinking it to be immaterial._

_She opens the lid and lifts the waterskin to her mouth, only she coughs and splutters when a strong smell hits her. She frowns and goes to smell the water again, but her nose and throat burn at the scent._

_"Merlin, what is this?"_

_There's more to the usual portrayal of awkwardness in the way Merlin refuses to meet Morgana's eyes. She cannot decipher it, but she knows it's there. Panic evidently washes over Merlin, before a sadness, and then a confusion. Over and over, again and again._

_"It's water," he tells her._

_Morgana feels her jaw tense and she shoves the waterksin at him. A small cough of his own involuntarily escapes him. "What sort of fool do you take me for?" she demands._

_He doesn't answer. His face pales all together — and, now, Morgana very much doubts that its due to the sickness. He swallows and blinks fiercely._

_"Merlin! I won't ask you again." There's an imperceptible tremmor to her hand. "What is this?"_

_An eternity seems to pass by, and Morgana catches all the miniscule flickers of his eyelids, every tiny frown, every shade of emotion in his eyes. She sees it all._

_"It's-" Merlin stutters. He rancrously obliterates a budding tear from the corner of his eye. Nothing but a strangled and choked whisper escapes him; "It's … it's hemlock."_

_"Why in the_ world _would you try and make me drink hemlock?"_

_Merlin's eyes widen. "What? No. Please, Morgana, you have to listen to me—"_

_"I don't think I do, Merlin," she spits, her voice so harsh that Merlin draws back and pauses for a moment. His eyes display an overwhelming torment._

_Merlin bites back bile — a physical mirror of his thoughts. Morgana knows, now — knows that he tried to poison her, knows everything._

_"Morgause used you," he says. The words are like a punch to his stomach, because it hurts him that Morgana was used like she was. Merlin only dares to voice it because he knows that she will not listen to reason unless he says it how it is._

_"What on earth are you talking about?" she snaps. She can see a cold sweat on his face, and his features look more exhausted and pale by the second. She thinks that the sickness must be making him delirious._

_"She made you the vessel for the immortal army," Merlin shakes his head. There's no time for tiptoeing the right words — the words to give this fall less impact. He watches Morgana shake her head stubbornly. He sighs. "Who else would she have made the vessel? You have Arthur's guaranteed protection, and she needed to choose someone who wouldn't cause the army to fall."_

_He watches her silence._

_"And you were there, screaming for it."_

_His words sicken her to her core. She feels woozy. Yet still, Merlin persists._

_"Morgana - y-y," he stutters, almost breathless from the sickness, "—you know that I value your safety. What- you think I'm just saying this because I feel like it? Well, I'm being serious," he says. "Morgana. The only solution for this is the vessel dying. Severing the link between_ it _and the army." He manages to look her right in the eye. Feels an agony pulse through his heart, and not because of his illness. "You think that I would make up some theory that means your certain death because — what — I have a little extra time on my hands? I_ don't, _Morgana. There's an immortal army out there determined to butcher Arthur — and us, by the way. There_ is _no time for jesting."_

_Morgana stares at him in horror. Tries to process his sudden tact and force that seems to have come from nowhere. Tries to process everything else he is saying. There's a long pause._

_"She … wouldn't," Morgana whispers._

_Merlin collapses to his knees, breathing heavily through the weariness draining the life from him. He wipes at his forehead. "Wouldn't she?"_

_"She isn't like that."_

_Merlin almost sighs. "She's a witch who hides away in some castle plotting Uther and Arthur's downfalls_. Evil. _Please, now, I beg you to see that, because there really isn't much time left. Arthur must be struggling with his sickness as much as I am with mine."_

_Morgana finds her throat tight. She feels an anger rise in her veins, a despair, a deep and searing rage. But somehow it subsides as the sight of Merlin almost passing out in front of her caves into her concern. Still, she remains silent._

_"Morgana, if you want to watch Morgause's army rip us to shreds whilst she indulges herself in the spoils, then do it."_

_"Merlin."_

_He shakes his head. "Then you've no other choice."_

_Arthur's waning shouts echo from outside and clank after clank of swords pierces their ears. "I die?" Morgana whispers._

_Merlin sits backwards clumsily, unsure if he can keep his body upright for much longer. He doesn't really know how Arthur is still standing. A tear escapes his eye. "I don't want this, Morgana. I'm sorry-"_

_Her voice is softer. "Save it, Merlin." She goes to pick the waterskin back up. "There's hemlock in this?"_

_This time, it's Merlin who stays silent. He only nods and can barely meet her eyes. "I have the antidote. I can bring you back once the army has fallen."_

_"I drink this, and I die. But what if Morgause finds me?"_

_"She won't. Arthur and I will do everything to get you out of here before she has the chance to find you. But we … we need to move quickly."_

_A lone tear slips down Morgana's cheek as she brings the lid to her lips. She feels her hand shake violently as the liquid travels down her throat._

_Merlin forces himself to open his eyes after a few seconds, and finds that Morgana is looking at him._

_"Nothing's happening," she whispers._

_"It … it might take a while to have an effect."_

_Morgana nods slowly, unsure what to expect, when a crash echoes behind them. Both Morgana and Merlin turn around to see the double doors fly from their hinges and Morgause storm in._

_Morgana immediately shuffles towards Merlin and a sheer anger cuts into her eyes. "You *traitor*. Take one more step towards me and I swear to the gods that you will regret it."_

_Shock crosses Morgause's features. "Sister, I don't understand," she mumbles, before snapping her gaze to Merlin. "What have you told her?"_

_"The truth," Merlin answers._

_Morgause looks helpless — a sight that both Merlin and Morgana find a satisfaction in. "Morgana, step away from him-"_

_"Not on your life," the Lady whispers, tone crackling slightly. She feels a burning bile rise in her throat and it constricts. Panicked, she looks to Merlin, who clearly shares her worry._

_He gives her a slow nod of confirmation, and she brings her hand to her throat. Her head is woozy and a fire is suddenly ablaze against the raw flesh of her throat. A terror closes in as she collapses backwards where she knows Merlin is. Her eyes widen as she gasps. Her only focus now fixated on the life seeping out of her, the poison wrapping it and tearing it away._

_As the darkness descends, she only remembers the very flicker of comfort that arises from Merlin's safeguarding cradle. And his trembling whisper, a hush in her ears. "I'm sorry."_

_Everything in Morgana's mind numbs._

__________________

_Merlin cannot hold back the tears that escape his eyes as he feels Morgana's body suddenly still in his arms. In his heart there's a moment of silence — a warped peace, perhaps - until the weight of the world comes crashing down._

_He's lost her._

_"You fool!" Morgause barks, eyes irate as she processes what just happened before her. "The army was so close to finally bringing about Arthur's dispatch! And you-you sabotaged it!"_

_Merlin's mind feels insenate. He refuses to let Morgana go. "That was sort of the point."_

_Morgause takes a step forwards and Merlin moves backwards, taking Morgana with him._

_"Was killing her really worth it?" she asks, tone bitter and smile mocking._

_Another unrestrained tear slides from his eye. "I didn't kill her. She drunk it herself after I told her what you really are." He waits a moment. "And after I told her what you've done."_

_Morgause laughs. "What an ignoramus being she was. So easy to manipulate. So woefully gullible-"_

_"That's enough!" Merlin yells. His voice is raw — oh, so raw. It actually hurts. He finds the anger and despair inside of him shaking, uncontrollable. Overwhelming to the point of exhaustion._

_"In any matter, you fool, if you do not give my sister to me, I will ensure that she never sees the light of day again. I'll show her a lonliness and pain so powerful that it's beyond comprehension."_

_Merlin exhales shortly. His eyelids move heavily. "You'd need her alive to do that. Only I have the antidote."_

_"Oh, don't worry. I can easily bring her back to life with no need from medicine."_

_Merlin feels his jaw tense at Morgause's words, because Morgana being taken by such a witch is surely the last thing anyone wants. Merlin allows his focus to wander down to Morgana's face, her features so still and calm that it wounds him. He has to look away._

_Instead, his eyes are drawn to Morgause. Her blonde waves tumble down her back and over her armour. Her eyes are fierce and Merlin noticeably flinches at that._

_Because Merlin recalls that he knows that look; he has seen it in Morgana's eyes often enough. Then, in those instances, it had pained him. But now, it slightly panicks him, as he continues to watch Morgause. Her eyes are more wild than he had ever seen in Morgana. An unrest and a readiness for war stirs in them._

_Merlin shuffles on the cold floor. He knows that the next thing Morgause will focus on is revenge. So he gathers his magic. With a swift jut of his chin, his eyes flash gold, but then feels a stronger magic — one full of hate and bitterness — pulse through him. He just manages to gauge the change in the blonde witch's eyes before he is thrown backwards._

__________

_Merlin feels his back ache and his head is thudding. There's a strange silence around him, almost muffled and shroud in secrecy._

_Recalling that Morgana still lay on the council hall floor has Merlin sitting up in seconds. He pushes back the wooziness to see Morgause lift Morgana onto her knees._

_Merlin feels a relentless anger boil in his veins. It agonizes him as he looks to Morgause. His vexation channels everything she stands for and everything she has done. He feels such an ache of despair, helplessness, and grief plummet down on him as his exhausted focus wavers on a lifeless Morgana._

_He stands on weak legs, feels a cold sweat run down his face, as he roars. He pulls every single fibre of his magic from his veins, past caring that it may cause him to perish soon enough. Within moments, Morgause is hurled across the hall and a thump sounds as she lands on the stone floor._

_Merlin breathes in relief and moves to lift Morgana from the floor. He can hear Arthur's faint footsteps, and Merlin's hope rises through his weariness. He relishes in the thought that the three of them will finally escape Morgause._

_As the servant secures his arms beneath Morgana, he eyes begin to blur. He becomes aware of his legs and arms weakening. Merlin tries to grab Morgana — his final attempt of saving her. But he stumbles as the weariness from his earlier intense magic use weighs his body down._

_He thinks he sees Morgause begin to stir, but before he can do anything, Merlin collapses to the floor._

_His vision goes black._

_________

When Merlin woke, he sees, letting his head fall sideways against the cold floor, that Morgana is gone. It burns an aching pain in his gut that he knows will never leave. All the ill servant sees is Arthur standing over him, blond hair dripping from sweat and worry plastered on his expression. He asks what happened. He asks about Morgana's absence.

Merlin supposes that Morgause woke up after he did. Hell, he had seen it. He knows that she must have taken Morgana, then. 

Pushing back an agonising grief and foreboding sense of failure, Merlin tells Arthur that he doesn't know where Morgana is. That he'd collapsed from his sickness before Morgana disappeared. After all, Merlin has to make sure that Arthur doesn't know the truth about Morgana's alliance with Morgause. He figures that it only would make things worse.

______________

When Morgana woke, her hazy focus only sees many trees surrounded in mist and a nightmarish darkness. Her throat feels like it is burning and, in the cloudiness, she cannot for the life of her remember why. All she knows is that some hours later, she woke once again. 

Instead of a forest blanketed in midnight, though, Morgana only feels a cold wall behind her. She notices very murky hues of moonlight luminate some patches of a dark and cold room. Her ears are pierced with damp dripping from the ceiling and trickles of it running down the walls. 

Other than that, and the occasional clang of shackles that bind her wrists, there is silence. 

For two years, in fact, all Morgana hears is silence.


	2. Two Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get an inisight into how Merlin and Morgana resolved what happened after those two years apart, they bicker sometimes, it snows outside, and Gwaine causes havoc in the banquet hall.

_December_  
_Two years later:_

"Shouldn't you be at the feast?" she asks Merlin, watching him wander around her chambers. She places her comb on the dresser and eyes him curiously.

"Er, no. Well, yes. Probably." He stops walking and relights the hearth with his magic. "I thought I'd come here, though."

"Yes, I can see that. But why?" she questions again, tone melodious with a merry wit. "Was the feast not satisfactory to your amusement?"

"It was — uh, well … sort of." He breifly grimaces as he recalls Gwaine's drunken insistence on throwing various food items at the rest of the knights. It was humorous at first, but it quickly diminished in entertainment value when Arthur eventually dragged him out of the hall. Little to Arthur's knowledge, though, Gwaine had snuck back in.

Merlin shakes his head, deciding not to tell Morgana of that instance — he's sure she would find distasteful. "I want you to come with me."

Morgana tilts her head at him as she considers this.

"Where to?" she asks quietly.

He shrugs. "I don't know — anywhere. I, uh, I have this place I used to go to when … when you weren't here. No-one but me knows about it."

She sighs and shakes her head. "I'm grateful, Merlin. Truly, I am. But you know that Gaius has strictly told me I'm not to venture from my chambers for too long. So has Uther," she says, and neither Merlin nor Morgana fail to heed the bitterness in her tone upon speaking the King's name. "He's put the guards under instruction not to let me leave after dark."

Merlin considers her fed up expression. He finds that he understands; she is not a child nor a captive. Although, the latter seeps further into his reasoning as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"And what do _you_ want?" he asks, eyes dreadfully honest. 

Morgana keeps her focus on him and almost feels herself choke up — with a peculiar anger, an exasperation, or an exhaustion, she does not know. 

"For two years I was a prisoner at the hands of two barbarians," she whispers. "I shouldn't dispatch of the care I've received here, I know that, but … I'm starting to feel like a prisoner here, too."

He nods slowly. "That's partly why I wanted you to come with me."

She tilts her head at him, a wondrous smile appearing on her face for a few moments. "Only, I'd feel awful for accepting; you really should be enjoying the feast. It's Yuletide, Merlin," she says, tone soft and almost longing. 

He humms. "I'm aware. I've spent five days polishing Arthur's best shirts and boots, and two days preparing the food and decorations." 

"The latter chores are for the catering staff to do," Morgana says. "Arthur really does work you too hard."

"I'm used to it."

She sighs a smile. "This Kingdom needs more people like you."

The corners of Merlin's mouth twitch slightly, but then his expression drains and becomes somewhat blank. "I've spent the last two Yuletide feasts not knowing where you were, or whether or not you were coming back." He looks back up almost sheepishly. "I found myself unable to smile at the things I used to smile at."

Morgana's gentle focus flickers around his face for a while. "And now?" 

"Now, it's a little easier. But it would be a lot easier if you agreed to come with me. It would probably make me smile."

Morgana gasps dramatically and gently slaps his arm. "You trickster. You never used to be like that."

He lets himself laugh. "Some things have changed in two years." A seriousness then darkens his eyes slightly and retreats his lips back to a thin line. Morgana leans back onto her pillows and studies him carefully. "Morgana, I … I know you saw darkness for … for too long, and I only wish for you to see something else."

Morgana finds her teary eyes unable to tear away from Merlin, until he nods to the window, where a glorious cascade of flakes descend down to the courtyard outside, knowing no bounds beneath the starry sky. It's truly a beautiful sight and Morgana is itching to go outside. To feel the icy air prick her skin, to breathe in the cold, to let the sound of the towns peoples' festive melodies blanket her ears. 

"What do you say?" Merlin asks after a while.

Morgana looks back at him and her brow flickers a little. "It would be rude to decline an invitation.

A grin appears on Merlin's face. "That's more like it."

The prospect of leaving the confinement of the castle walls causes her heart to caper and frisk. But then her face falls, and, thus, Merlin's does too. "Although, I find myself concerned as to what Uther or Gaius will do if they find out."

"Then it's a good thing I sort of … uh … put a temporary spell on the guards' minds. Let's just say that the hallways are clear. Also, Gaius and Gwaine have created an ale coterie and they're both singing like sailors. Lastly, Gwen assured Uther that you soundly fell into a deep sleep not that long ago."

"She did?"

"Mmm hmm. Uther was worried about your wellbeing and was adamant not to enjoy the feast until he knew that you wouldn't wander from your chambers. Now, with his mind at ease, everything's clear."

Morgana can feel a bright smile ready to emerge, almost aching her jaw. It only grows in endearment when Merlin proclaims — with an equally fond smile of his own — that he would gladly carry her back to her chambers, should the months of her steady recovery suddenly backfire. 

As she moves off her bed, accepting the hand Merlin offers her as he bows dramatically, Morgana recalls that she entirely trusts in his integrity.

__________

Morgana's brows knit together as she listens to the gentle thud of Merlin's boots on the floor. She's curious as they walk through the main corridors, because frankly, she knows them like the back of her hand. Even after two years, she could navigate them with her eyes closed. 

They journey through an old store room with broomsticks and supplies strewn all over the floor. Morgana holds back, ready for Merlin to trip over something and go toppling over. But he draws a steady inhalation and steps over each object even if there was no need for such conscientiousness.

"Since when don't you fall over in places like this?" she asks, raising an amused eyebrow at him. 

He laughs and clears cobwebs out of their path with the abandoned tail end of a broom he had found. He shrugs. "Some things have changed."

"That's sweet, Merlin, but you'll always be a bumbling baffoon," she whispers teasingly as she catches up to his side. 

Merlin clears his throat and keeps his eyes ahead. He grins slightly and remembers that instance he tripped over in Morgana's chambers a few months back. And that time he fell over Arthur's chair during the feast held to celebrate Morgana's return. He chooses to wince dramatically. "Careful, now. You really sound like Arthur."

"I do not," she retorts. "Besides, Arthur loves it, really. He's just too proud to admit it."

Merlin smiles and scoffs. "I don't think so. _You_ wouldn't find it so amusing if I scratched your armour or dropped your dinner every time I tripped over something."

"Precisely. It just means you have to run around for him more, and you don't need me to tell you how much the spoilt fool relishes that."

____________

As they exit another small alleyway, Morgana's curiosity as Merlin continues to plod forwards only grows.

However, an unease sits heavy in her stomach, her head, her throat, her heart. After all, she is walking through narrow hallways lit only by the slither of moonlight that scarcely peeks through the thick cobwebs in the windows. It's blanketed in darkness — a darkness that's all too familiar.

Merlin must sense this somehow, for he turns slowly. Looking at her, he tilts his head. "Are you alright?"

"I'm … I'm fine," she mumbles, only entirely unaware that her limbs freeze where she stands.

Merlin only frowns. "Perhaps we were wrong to do this. I—"

"Merlin, it's alright," she whispers, unsure gaze flickering to him. "I can't go back to my chambers — not yet. Please, my only wish is to stay with you."

Merlin sighs lightly and places his hand to her shoulder. "If that's what you want," he mumbles gently. "Do you trust me?"

_"You? Merlin, notorious in the Kingdom for abandoning Yuletide feasts and leading people down strange hallways?_ Oh, absolutely not," she teases, earning a smile from him. She lightly hits his shoulder — and it's far more considerate, Merlin gratefully muses, than Arthur's so-called horseplay. "You fool, of course I trust you."

"Good," he says. "We're almost there."

____________

A fleck of moonlight seeps through the end of the corridor, and it lifts the unease. But she half anticipates to wake up in a cold sweat in the Sarrum's dungeon — to face the brutal reality that her rescue, warmth and brightness is all but a burnt-out hope.

"We're, uh … here." 

Broken from her thoughts, Morgana snaps her head up to see Merlin standing near a wooden door. Her gaze lingers on him, and she nods gently for him to open the door.

Above her, the ceiling caves in and almost reaches Merlin's height. Morgana watches the concern take light on his features as he opens the door, graceful moonbeam spilling out into the corridor.

___________

The chill of winter finds Morgana; she steps out from the ironic comfort of the dark hallway and onto the balcony. It sends a shiver through her body — a hollow sensation, though, because the cold is something she is all too used to, by now. It's the familiarity that numbs it.

Not that Merlin is aware of that, though, if the way he shrugs his jacket off to give to her is any indication.

"I'm used to the cold," she tells him. Morgana watches the pain etch on his expression. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise," he tells her, putting his jacket back on. "What happened wasn't your fault, after all."

Morgana stays silent, offering him a weak smile, but she disagrees. 

Oh, she has disagreed with that for a long time.

_____________

_Several months ago:_  
_During Morgana's kidnapping:_

_The darkness always seems to fall like the cold does: an ever-present smothering blanket of the abyss warped in blindness, and an icy air that chills her skin and her bones. Shatters her diminishing resistance. Swallows hope like the clang of shackles every time she dare move._

_Exhaustion always envelopes itself through the dark and finds Morgana as she leans against a damp stoney wall. Seeks out her scarcely open eyelids, though whether or not they choose not to open due to lassitude or a loss of hope, she is beyond able to discern. Although, said despair would be like a surrender — and one she isn't ready to flag just yet._

_Because give it more time, Morgana sometimes wishes to believe, and she will shout. Wait a little longer for her to regain some scarce strength, and she will lunge forwards to break the shackles binding her arms to the wall._

_Or so, she knows that it shall never happen, for her strength comes and goes in uncertain waves. And without knowing what minute, hour, day, season or year it is, Morgana lets the numb time elapse like the decaying embers of a fire._

_Beautiful and glorious memories seem to flash by her mind frequently, now. Feasts, trips to the lower town with Gwen, teasing Arthur and beating him in swordfights. Warmth and food and light and contentment._

_But then, as they usually do, the memories fade and become more sinister. She remembers the painful moments. Uther shackling her to the dungeons, her father's passing, and Merlin — although the latter person, she knows, really, scarcely fits into this category._

_Because thinking of the servant unfailingly leaves her to wallow in too many conflictions. Quarrels in her mind remembering his smiling face and his kindly nature. She remembers him giving her the poison and she drunk it, afterwards. She knows that. She doesn't remember feeling resentment towards Merlin, though._

_No. That particular warefare, she directs to someone else. Someone who has, in fact, visited her occasionally — a blonde witch, always present with a smirk. Morgana may only blink slowly at Morgause, as she watches the witch and the Sarrum converse._

_Sometimes, Morgause would say 'This is your retribution, sister, for betraying me and listening to that irksome servant instead.'_

_Tiredness not long grabs at her, after that. She is no longer interested in two barbarians insistent on smirking at her, anymore._

_Morgana knows that Merlin wrote his wrongs. He tried all he could to make everyone safe in everything Morgana herself created. It's the only thing that makes sense._

_Morgause, however, would have died months ago, had Morgana's magic not been ripped from her soul. She remembers a searing agony that almost blinded her, a leech that screeched and a darkness that shattered the weight of the world. She remembers Morgause's smirking face. She'd fought to keep her eyelids open to hold Morgause's gaze. Her head had rested against the wall as soon as the door closed shut in the cloudiness of her ears._

_The fact that her magic was taken away leaves Morgana with an even greater burning and gaping hole in her heart. And, of course, a non-existent defence mechanism. She'd never actually learnt any spells, of course, but she had hoped that she'd have been able to at least try to get herself out._

_A part of her — a confusing one at that — was lost, all because she was gullible. Gave Morgause exactly what she wanted — a pawn to move in her malevolent play to win the kingdom. She knows that her magic is lost; she can feel something missing._

_She knows that had Merlin not stepped in, the kingdom rife with loving people may have perished beneath war. It would have bowed in an unreciprocated silence to Morgause, a witch who got what she had always wished for, beside Morgana, a witch with a heart blackened in ash, and the morality that she knew Merlin had always seen instead scarcely there to behold._

_She often thanks the gods that it didn't get that far. But the pentinence at her own actions deepens the wound as her eyes fall closed once more, alongside the hollow beats of her heart._

____________

For so many months, it went by like that. Thoughts that whirled by in repeating circles and the tiredness that wavered with every blink she made. That was, until she escaped when she was moved. 

All she remembers about that instance is being woken by sounds of banging and shouting, and then two burly guards entered, unshackled her, and dragged her through long and twisting caverns. But that's where stops remembering, for her hazy recall simply failed to function beneath two years of relentless exhaustion. 

Soon, as her body was aching and every bruise ignited after being dragged along many stone floors, she saw light. At first, it pierced into her eyes and hurt her head. 

And then the Sarrum's guards relinquished Morgana for their swords. Cries and clangs of shouts of a small war echoed all around her, but Morgana couldn't make sense of any of it; all she could taste was the fresh air that smelt like the forest, could hear birdsong of what must have been early dawn. 

Her legs felt weak, then, due to her numbing senses. She saw a vast number of the Sarrum's guards dead on the ground, and for a split second she thought she saw Arthur. And then she collapsed.

As it turns out, she was right. When she woke, she was lying beneath a blanket. She remembers slowly gauging her surroundings. She recalls the relief that came from seeing Arthur — alive and well — and knights of Camelot sitting around a fire. She remembers the solace overwhelmed with the realisation that she had escaped, and that it was real. 

After all, she could distinguish it from the nightmares because, as harrowing and tricking as they had been, they were always hazy and without clarity. 

In this instance, though, Morgana could identify everything in detail; the steady laugh of Arthur and his men; the gentle night breeze of August; the crackling fire beside her. The warmth that was a godsend to her skin, and the happiness she clocked in Arthur's eyes every time he checked on her that once again told her just how wrong she had been. 

But as she felt safe enough to once again allow her eyes to close — to replenish everything that had been lost — she saw Merlin for the first time in two years. He was kneeling beside her, and how she had not noticed him before was an obscurity to her.

She recalls, breifly, that he refused to meet her eyes. Even as she tried to speak, he did not answer. Or perhaps no words came out in the first place, for she did not know quite what to say, and perhaps he didn't either. She remembers blinking tiredly as he cleaned a wound on her head — she remembers the concern and the torment but the sheer relief in his blue eyes.

She recalls her head feeling woozy and being swathed in tiredness, and she doesn't remember why she did it, but at one point she reached a trembling hand from the blanket to trace a finger along Merlin's face. He met her eyes, then, and there was a perplexity in them. He looked almost as if he were about to sob, but then sniffed and held his expression stoic. He held her gaze all the same — unable to make himself do anything else, it had seemed. 

Some kind of trauma had shone in his eyes, and she saw shards of something in them. Something painful and misplaced and broken, as he looked at her. She had thought it to be guilt, and so in that moment, she vowed to set things right once they returned to Camelot.

Later on, her head wound had stung less, the more Merin dabbed at it with a cloth. He still had not spoken a word, and neither had she. But Morgana could not bring herself to wince, for the weariness numbed her senses again until, eventually, she succumbed to it. 

They didn't speak until a cold and drizzly autumn morning after, when Morgana called Merlin to her chambers back in Camelot. She simply had not wished for him to feel a such a misplaced burden of guilt any more than she thinks he may have felt already.

It didn't exactly sit easy Merlin, though; whilst he was relieved, he was also unsettled by the prospect of standing in front of her when all he could still remember is the feeling of her dying in his arms — defeated by the poison only _he_ gave her. 

____________

_August, 5 months ago:_

_It took Merlin several hours to fall asleep the night Morgana was brought back to Camelot. Not only because his mind was troubled, though, but also because of a heavy relief so pure that he could not pry it from his mind. The two divergent thoughts had played hell with his mind for two years, but were made worse upon Morgana's return._

_He had tossed and turned beneath the sheets, arms still aching from cleaning out the hearth in Morgana's chambers. Readying her room was chore he had done alongside Gwen, as Morgana was with Gaius being examined for injuries._

_Gwen had worn a great smile all day, floral patterns of her yellow dress illuminated in the late evening sun of August. As she plumped the pillows and swept the floor, she had frequently mumbled her happy chants of reassurance to Merlin, who had only been able to humm in agreement._

_Because with every second, Merlin scrubbed at the stone even harder. Two years of stubborn ash dismantled and floated into the air above, and some even settled in his shorter hair. His brows were always troubled and his thoughts hosted an equal distress._

_After all, Merlin was the one who gave Morgana the poison, and he was the one who had clung onto his thoughts for two years too many. No reassurance from Gaius had ever been able to ease the guilt._

_His thoughts did not lessen any when he was called to Morgana's chambers the following morning._

______

_The following morning:_

_He can't seem to will himself to meet her eyes. The window, and then the wall, and then the door comes into focus as his gaze flickers everywhere._

_"Merlin," she whispers. She sounds shaken and tired and confused. "You know that I don't blame you."_

_He manages to look at her. At the pain. He clears his throat and feels his eyes burn. "I don't- I don't know. Morgana, I … blame myself."_

_"Do not," is all she says. "You did what you had to do to protect the kingdom. It was my fault."_

_"If I'd been there—"_

_"You still may not have been able to prevent it. And you_ were _there, Merlin."_

_"But if I'd told you, Morgana—"_

_He stops, purses his lips and parts his eyes. Her own eyes stay wary on him as she blinks tiredly._

_"Told me what?" she asks softly, absently reaching up to brush ash from his hair, only realising the closeness of the movement when Merlin sniffs gently through his nose. She steadily retracts her arm, tries to catch his eyes but they refuse to face her. "Merlin?"_

_"It's no matter right now," he tells her. His eyes finally find every feature of her dreary face and he pauses for a moment — it's a hollow shock, by now, though. "You must rest."_

_"If someone tells me to rest one more time, I swear I'll-" and then she stops; was she going to threaten an empty violence? She's seen violence for two years - what it actually is. How its name is whispered and never voiced. "Sorry, Merlin. I mean … oh, well … " she sighs " … you probably know what I mean."_

_He humms and taps his fingers on the white sheets. "I'm sorry, but I fear you'll need to be fully rested before I tell you. It's going to shock you, and I only want you to be ready for that."_

_Suddenly a panic appears on her face. "Surely it can't be that serious."_

_"What? No. It's not … it's not like that - dangerous, I mean," he reassures her. "It's … fragile, but not dangerous. Especially not to you."_

_Morgana rests back against her pillows, a tiredness overwhelming her. She finds that it is welcomed, for she is now surrounded by warmth, light and care. No longer cold, darkness and lonliness. "Very well."_

_Merlin nods and stands to leave. His gaze lingers on her for a few moments when he turns back around, giving rise to a small smile. "I'm glad you're finally back. And safe. It wasn't right here when you were gone." Merlin pauses, reconsidering a familiar thought as it finally rolls onto his tongue. "I can't even imagine how it was for you."_

_"Then I pray you will not torture yourself thinking about it," she whispers. "And thank you, Merlin … for everything. It's good to be back."_

_He bows politely, and the tired thud of his boots is a gentle solace in the warmly lit chambers as he walks to the doors._

_"Good night, Merlin," she calls._

_He turns, hand poised on the door handle, and gives her a smile. "I wish you pleasant dreams, my Lady."_

_____________

When it came to it, Morgana didn't learn of that thing Merlin wanted to tell her. Well, she did — only, Merlin wasn't the who told her. It had been Gaius, by a foolish slip of his tongue one September afternoon whilst he checked her over.

_"Merlin keeps telling me how exasperated you are, with Uther ordering all of these limitations on where you can go."_

_"Yes. I understand that Uther is … concerned … but he has no right to deprive me of my independence."_

_"Quite,"_ the old Physician had nodded, before smiling slightly. _"Merlin says you're feathers are ruffled."_

_"Oh, does he?"_ she had quirked a smile. _"Well, I may offload my grievances on him a little too often. Although, he complains to me about Arthur just as much, so I suppose we're equal in that respect."_

Gaius had smiled fondly at that remark. _"Indeed you are, my child. Not to mention being equal in other respects. I tell you, I see a weight lifted from Merlin's shoulders these days, now that he has you to share both the burden and the beauty of your gifts with. I've never really been suited to that role in Merlin's life; I may possess magic, but it becomes more weary every day. Your magic, however, is just the same as his."_

Morgana had never known Gaius to ramble so much. She would have only found it endearing if it wasn't for the entirety of what he said. 

_"Gaius, did you just … "_ she had murmured, before realizing the sheepish expression that crossed the Physician's face. _"Merlin has magic,"_ she'd said.

It had felt strange on her tongue. It'd felt surreal to her ears. It also would have made her angry that Merlin didn't tell her sooner, but Morgana knew that he intended to. He was just waiting until she had recovered a little. She knows that he was just being considerate and benevolent.

A smile had broken onto her face, much to Gaius's subtle surprise. For some reason, in that moment, as Gaius had packed away his medical provisions, Morgana had pictured Merlin's ridiculous smile and the way he tripped over the table leg in her chambers the other week. She had laughed, then, in front of Gaius, as she recalled the way Merlin had ended up in a heap of lanky arms and legs on the floor. Lord knows that she herself nearly collapsed for laughing so much, just as Merlin insisted — whilst still lying on the floor — that it wasn't actually _that_ funny.

In that moment, Morgana really had failed to be even a little bit vexed at the ridiculous servant. He had, for as long as she can remember, been the only one to strive to different measures to make her feel like she was safe in Camelot. 

How did Merlin having magic change anything for the worse? Well, it didn't — and Morgana was immediately certain of that.

Merlin still remembers, as he stands beside Morgana on the balcony as snow swirls down, Gaius returning home that late September afternoon after his rounds. He'd told Merlin that he'd accidentally told Morgana of his magic. Gaius hadn't been at all worried or, actually, in the least bit apologetic for it, though. 

_"Gaius? How did she take it? What did she say?"_

_"She laughed, my boy."_

_"She … she laughed?"_

And, upon instantly going to visit Morgana to find where he stood, Merlin knew why Gaius had been so laid back about the whole thing. 

Merlin had knocked once and then entered, finding Morgana standing by her window. He remembers letting his eyes glaze over her. Her shoulders were relaxed, and she looked to be in a very blissful state of calm. The way Morgana had turned around and smiled brightly did cease his unease, yet it made him curious. He had expected his reveal of magic to Morgana to be so much more.

Well, more conflicting, at least. He'd expected her to be frustrated and to blame him for everything — for her gullibility to Morgause, and for the downfall of Camelot that so nearly happened. Truthfully, Merlin had let his mind run wild with these scenarios, during the month he waited for Morgana to recover from her ordeal. 

_"Please don't look so concerned, Merlin,"_ Morgana had told him, eyes still bright with happiness.

Merlin's own eyes had stayed wary as he took quickened steps towards her. _"Why … why aren't you angry and … I don't know—"_

_"Merlin,"_ she had interrupted, very briefly placing her hand to his chest as she glided past him. _"When I returned, you said that you had something to tell me. I know that you didn't tell me of your magic before I was kidnapped, but … things were different back then, Merlin. We were both naive in many ways … and, well, it may not have made things any easier anyway."_

Merlin had remained silent for a moment, allowing himself to consider her with tired eyes. _"I suppose not,"_ he had murmured.

_"We've both grown since then. You don't need me to tell you that,"_ she had said, stepping towards him. _"You thought it would shock me, but we're in a better place to deal with these things, now."_

_"I suppose that's true,"_ is all he'd managed to say as his mind became lighter, all the intensity and pent-up worry disappearing as he considered how Morgana was taking the news of his magic. 

Morgana had tried to smile at him again, but had failed dismally. Merlin had frowned. _"I would have asked you to teach me, but … there's a problem."_

_"What?"_ he'd tilted his head slightly. _"What problem?"_

Merlin had listened to Morgana, as morning somehow stretched into night. He couldn't decipher his shock nor his own curiosity. But he knew the sadness. The empathy that morphed into an almost inaudible sigh. He'd despised, that day, thinking how he would feel if his magic was as buried as Morgana's. Even if it weren't — which it isn't — he would feel the same.

There'd been a burning anger in his mind at the thought of Morgause, as if there hadn't been one there simmering for two years already. But he's all too aware of the promise Morgause made him that day — the promise of avenging Morgana with some kind of pain. He thinks he could have stopped it but the illness had laid into him, back then. 

Merlin was, at one point in the last three months, urged to ask Kilgarrah what to do. But when he consulted Morgana, she told him no. She'd told him that she didnt wish to satisfy the dragon after what Merlin told her. He himself hadn't wanted to, after ceasing all contact with the creature following Morgana's return — but he had felt that it was a dire enough situation.

_"We'll find another way, Merlin,"_ she had said. Her voice had been certain and steady. "There's no need for Kilgarrah to input even more of his nonsensical opinions where they aren't necessary."

After going by Morgana's wishes, Merlin relented and they continued their techniques by themselves. Merlin hates the draining experience it puts Morgana through, but in any matter he fears that something buried beneath such relentless torment will only require some equally hellish way to reawken it. 

Merlin's hesitancy to trust Kilgarrah as he once had, came from the first few months following Morgana's disappearance, which were agonizing. Well, Merlin always knew where she was; after all, Morgana was presumed as missing, and Merlin didn't tell anyone otherwise; he scarcely wanted to believe in her absence himself, and, similarly, he knew that telling anyone of the truth would have made it more real. In any matter, it only would have raised questions that wouldn't have done anyone's grief any good. 

Somehow it had seemed kinder to their friends — Arthur and Gwen in particular: when everyone else believed that Morgana was anywhere out there, a hope strangely resided.

Merlin, on the other hand, had known without fail that Morgause had taken her. He never thought of where she was or what she was enduring, though, as the days trickled by like ruined molasses. He never liked to, despite that he would have given anything to have her back safe at Camelot. 

The day after Morgana died in Merlin's arms and he woke in a world where she seemingly wasn't, he didn't step upon Kilgarrah's threshold. He wanted to know how to get Morgana back — if there even was a way — but, in the wake of a new wisdom that followed the trauma, Merlin knew that it would be a bad idea.

After all, Kilgarrah had never been even acutely fond of Morgana. He despised her with a passion — something Merlin had always loathed — and, so, any chance of Kilgarrah telling Merlin how to get Morgana back would be non-existent. Merlin knew that Kilgarrah would refuse — that the dragon would be in seventh heaven as soon as he knew Morgana was missing. 

And throughout those two years, Merlin had found that he didn't want to risk it. He hadn't wanted to go down there on the off-chance that Kilgarrah may cave and help him; the first night after Morgana's departure, Kilgarrah roared into Merlin's head as he tried to sleep, the words: _''I told you, young warlock! She will hate you and she will come for your head first! A war she will start, and a bloody one it will be!"_

Merlin knows that Kilgarrah will never change his opinion of Morgana. Oh, he is quite certain of that — even now, for upon Morgana's return, Merlin visited Kilgarrah for the first time in two years. 

_"How you have grown, young warlock!"_ Kilgarrah had observed.

Merlin didn't say anything for a while, because two years of suffering Morgana's absence had done nothing to diminish his anger towards Kilgarrah.

_"I came to tell you that I won't be relying on you any more, Kilgarrah. You were wrong about Morgana."_ He had allowed himself to smile, and then Merlin had paused as his stoic blue eyes pierced the dragon's. _"I talked to her, Kilgarrah … before I poisoned her — two years ago it'll be, now. You were wrong to advise me against it. It's healed many things and I will always be grateful for that."_

Kilgarrah had only laughed. _"How naïve you still are. She has changed, Merlin, but not for the better!"_ he had then roared, bitterness residing in his tone.

Merlin had only bowed, expression serious, before turning his back to the great dragon for what would be the very last time.

Merlin couldn't lie to Morgana and let her die under false pretences. He just couldn't. Kilgarrah had never understood that. 

Besides, Merlin thinks that if righting their wrongs means anything, it's to act in a virtue they've both fought for. 

________________

_November, a few months ago:_

_"Even after all this time, Merlin, I can't fathom that it's gone," she says, staring into the crackling hearth before her. Since the sun descended, they had been trying to retrieve Morgana's magic. Chanelling it from her own self, and from Merlin's magic. Now, as the stars settle in the sky, they both sit on the rug._

_Merlin looks at her. He sees the subtle signs of weariness - although it seems a different weariness to the one he saw when she escaped. "It's there, Morgana, trust me. Well, it will be."_

_"I've lost count of how many times we've tried this. Nothing's happened."_

_"That's because it's going to take time. Your magic has been buried for … for too long," he whispers, unable to take his focus from her._

_As Merlin's words of attempted reassurance cloud Morgana's ears and fade into the crackling hearth, Morgause's words from long ago become more apparent._

_"It's right there, but what a colossal pity it is that you can't use it," Morgause had sneered as she ordered the leeches away, like defenceless puppets on a string._

_Merlin senses Morgana's defeat. She was never like this when he knew her; her fiesty spirit he once knew is forgotten beneath everything that happened during those two years. She never would have given in so easily back then._

_He slowly turns to face her, leg curled to his chest and the other laying almost clumsily on the floor._

_"Here," he murmurs, reaching for her hand. He curls his fingers around hers, and then closes his eyes and mutters some foreign words. When he opens his eyes, he nods at her to open her hand. He watches a small confused smile flicker on Morgana's expression when she sees the little fire alight on her palm._

_"Merlin, that's your magic," she says after a while._

_He smiles breifly and lets his fingers slip from beneath hers, retracting his hand. The fire survives. "At first it was, but not anymore; it's only still burning because it has a source, and that's your magic. If your magic was completely gone, or even if its roots were ruined - like you think they are - it wouldn't have stayed alight."_

_"You're sure?" she asks as the fire dissipates. She flexes her fingers before meeting his steady eyes._

_"When have I ever not been? See, if I'd lighted that on Arthur's or Gwen's hands, it would have disappeared as soon as I took my hand away."_

_She smiles a little. "Well, I hate to burst your bubble, Merlin, but if you tried to use your magic in front of Arthur, you wouldn't be able to polish his armour or scrub his boots. Unless, of course, someone actually went down to the cells to give them to you."_

_"Well, thanks for the offer, Morgana. I'd be much obliged. Oh, and don't forget to bring me down a basket of Arthur's polluted socks - I especially love cleaning them."_

_"No. I don't think my nose would handle the smell, thank you."_

_A faux disappointment finds his features. He shrugs. "Oh, well. Worth asking, I suppose."_

_Morgana smiles almost weakly, before she considers him for a moment. Tonight may not have meant success, but she supposes that it's a step in the right direction, at least; Merlin has repeatedly told her that every attempt strengthens her magic even if it's not apparent just yet._

_The fire softly continues to crackle in the quiet, and she rests her head to his shoulder. She feels him tense slightly, but only for a very brief moment._

_"We'll get it back," Merlin whispers after a few moments. "I promise."_

____________

But sometimes, when they are not attempting to awaken Morgana's magic, Morgana goes to Merlin's chambers. They spend time in the corner playing tricks on Gaius, such as making pots disappear or moving his papers to another surface with their magic — well, mostly Merlin's, for Morgana's gifts still need more ameliorating until she can preform such things. 

And frequently does Merlin lumber into her chambers and collapse on whichever chair he finds first, ranting about Arthur or Gaius or Kilgarrah — or anything that irritates him, really.

____________

_Early December, a few weeks ago:_

_"Er, Arthur said you weren't yourself at dinner," Merlin announces, burnishing a metal gauntlet of armour in his hand. The sleeves of his blue shirt are rolled up and he sits on a chair beside the window._

_Morgana glances up from writing taxes, blazing fire crackling behind her. "Did he?"_

_"Hmm," Merlin answers, making a few wide wipes to the metal. "Says you've been like it since your return."_

_"I would take it lightly, Merlin," she tells him, and then quirks an eyebrow at him. "Why don't you just use your magic to do the whole chore instead of working these unnecessary hours?"_

_He smiles brightly and shrugs. "I don't know. I suppose I like it — the chores. Well, sometimes. I'm used to it by now, anyway." Merlin glances at her. "Can't be mucking up your floors, though, can I?"_

_Morgana laughs at that - a sound that widens Merlin's flicker of a smile. "Absolutely not! If you weren't cleaning them with magic, I'd have you scrubbing those floors until I can see my face in them. Besides, all you do is complain about all the chores Arthur makes you do."_

_"Er, no," he says, pointing the gauntlet at her, "I complain when he never says thank you. Or please."_

_"Well, that's fair enough," she says, a smile emerging as she watches him polish the armour._

_"His lack of manners is quite confounding," Merlin grumbles to himself, unaware that it causes Morgana's hand to shake for the quiet laughter._

_After a while, the darkness of another December evening descends on the kingdom, and a cozy glow is alight by candles in the chambers._

_"You wanted to know why I wasn't myself at dinner ... as Arthur put it," Morgana says, interrupting the silence._

_"Er, well, not really. Not unless you want to tell me, that is," he says, before pausing and looking across to her again. "I was just concerned."_

_Morgana considers him for a moment, until she adds a period to the sentence she was writing. She then looks across to him, and he meets her eyes. "My opinion on Uther remains the same as it did two years ago. The fact that I have to maintain the façade that says otherwise doesn't change."_

_"I know. I thought as much," he mumbles, quiet eyes settling on her._

_"What? It's not justified?"_

_"Of course it's justified," he says, leaning forwards, elbows resting on his knees. "I ... I'm just glad that ..." Merlin trails off, unable to find any words. He runs his hand through his hair._

_"That I've stopped trying to kill everyone?" she suggests. "Yes, Merlin, as am I. Gwen and Gaius are loyal friends and good people. Arthur is yet to grow into his own ideals. I knew all of that from the beginning, even before two years ago. Even during my alliance with … " her voice trembles, " … with that witch."_

_Merlin sighs softly and stands, rounding the table and pulling out a chair. "Morgana, I know that. I know you still hate Uther. I do, too. We have more right than anyone, after all. But it's-"_

_"Morality before vengeance — yes, Merlin, I know. But that doesn't make having to dine with him a less arduous task."_

_"I know that," he relents and goes back to his chore. "I often find myself trying not to give into the impulse to hit him around the head with a jug, when I'm serving at your dinners."_

_"Oh, please do so next time," she laughs. "It would be better entertainment than Arthur prattling on about winning various swordfights."_

_"I don't doubt that, you know," he says, chuckling slightly. "But he'd have me in the stocks quicker than one can even comprehend."_

_"Oh, you're no fun," she says, pulling an expression of faux disappointment._

_"Morgana, the stocks are no fun," he says matter-of-factly with a serious quirk of his eyebrow._

_She laughs, then, before returning her attention to her tax writing. A great relief and an overwhelming happiness overcomes her, for she is beyond grateful that they have tended to what was wounded between them - what the intolerable ambiguity of two years apart gave rise to._

_____________

_The present:_

For the hundredth time since being up here, Morgana looks out to the sight below her. She finds tears prick her eyes — or perhaps that's just the cold. 

As far as the eye can see are rows and clusters of warm lights, a sea of cozy little houses and stables. The mountains tower high above the Kingdom, a thick layer of snow blanketing the peaks. Smoke from chimneys floats up into the air, twirling into flecks of snow fresh from the sky. The distant sound of festive singing travels among homes to become one joint humm of melodies. Smiling faces and hopeful hearts. 

"It's wonderful, Merlin," she whispers. "Thank you."

A smile flickers his mouth as his gaze settles upon her. "I thought you'd like it."

"I'd almost forgotten what snow looks like," she murmurs, slowly extending her arm and flexing her fingers in the cold air. Her palm is graced with tiny flakes of snow. "And what it … what it feels like."

Merlin's eyelids quiver slowly as he considers her. He considers her presence alone — reminds himself how much he marvels it after two years of sorely missing it. 

Morgana meets his gaze, and, realizing the snow settling in his hair, can't help but smile. Merlin frowns briefly before stepping forwards and standing behind her. He reaches for her hand, gently turning it so her palm is to the sky once again. He gives her a breif nod.

Morgana follows his gaze, hears him mumble some foreign words as she ever so slightly leans into him.

The snow morphs into a whirlpool, beckons all of the flakes towards a certain point before their eyes. And then, after a few moments, more snowflakes join the others. It falls faster as they cascade from the sky, and the snow almost becomes a shield of white against the purple and black hues of winter night sky.

Her eyes drift to his hand that's still beneath hers. She frowns in spite of the smile. "Why did you need my magic for that?"

"I only used mine as a … a force for yours," Merlin tells her quietly. "I left yours to do what it wanted after that."

"I didn't feel anything happen," she mumbles after a few moments, voice weighted with detachment. "I didn't seem to control it, either."

"You will," he says earnestly, breifly glancing at her. His eyes linger on Morgana as she looks upwards and finds his gaze. "It just needs time."

She gives him another smile, before turning her head. She looks to the snow as it falls, in millions of flakes, its mere existence coveted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really hope you enjoyed it! my life's been hectic while i wrote these two chapters so if there are any mistakes of any kind, don't hesitate to tell me in the comments and i'll try get round to fixing them! 
> 
> i really loved writing it though. you don't get many christmas mergana fics on here, do you?
> 
> disclaimer: firstly, the title is from the song 'fever' by vancouver sleep clinic. secondly, any lines or scenes taken from the 2x12 episode, all rights to them go to the bbc or whoever owns the copyright. 
> 
> merry christmas, or happy holidays everyone! stay safe <3


End file.
